Set My Soul Alight
by Bertie Bott
Summary: Bella's life takes a horrible turn after Edward leaves her so she makes a call to the one person she could always count on to be there for her. Through him, she meets a whole team of heroes and eventually crosses paths with a god with a chip on his shoulder…
1. Prologue

(A/N): So I couldn't resist writing this as the idea struck me. MANY thanks, as ever, to Kittyinaz who has been my sounding board for this, and my other story. I'm starting to become dependent on her!

This is just the prologue and I expect to have the first real chapter up in a couple days. It's set in New Moon for Twilight, and just before the events in the Avenger movie. I know there are many that would balk at this pairing, both couple wise and crossover type, but I simply couldn't say no to my muse. Thanks for reading – please let me know what you think!

Title comes from Muse's _Supermassive Black Hole_.

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_**Set My Soul Alight  
Prologue**_

She should've known it was already too late.

The relief that'd flooded her from escaping Laurent, albeit with the help of some huge horse-sized wolves on steroids, had Bella feeling something other than depressed for the first time in months. Adrenaline hummed through her veins and her entire body sung with life. For so long she'd let her grief consume her, infect every single facet of her life until there was nothing left of her, until she'd been nothing more but a walking corpse.

There'd been a time she'd thought death to be preferable to the terrible burden of existing as she was. Preferable to living with the knowledge that she'd loved so deeply only to be betrayed by the object of her affections, tossed aside like a fast food wrapper to be trampled on.

So when she saw Laurent, she hadn't run – not that running would've done any good. But then something strange had filled her, a willfulness that sparked as she realized the finality of death. An epiphany of sorts erupted in her mind as she realized how thoughtless she'd been behaving, how selfishness had colored her every action since _he_ had left.

She'd been a terrible daughter to her parents, never looking beyond her own pain to see the wounds she was inflicting upon them. Poor Charlie was making mad dashes to her room every night when she woke up screaming and he'd stay with her, silently rocking her in his oh-so awkward but so very genuine way. He was trying so hard to save her from herself, save her from the aching hole Edward Cullen had meticulously and callously chiseled through her chest. If she couldn't find it within her to live for herself, then she at least owed it to him.

It took almost dying for Bella to want to live. When Laurent finished his bad guy spiel about Victoria and revenge, he'd stretched out his claw-like hand like a lion ready to swipe the life from her, and Bella retreated a step. It was like that one step had done what nothing and no one else had been able to for months. It broke her out of her constant routine of depression and self-hatred. Like a slap to the face, Bella had snapped out of her woe and decided instantly that life did not begin and end with Edward Cullen.

She wanted to live.

And like an answer to an unspoken prayer, gigantic wolves descended and Bella ran as fast as she could back to her truck, her body thrumming with life, vitality and a new certainty that even though the pain and the wound would always fester, it'd be more like a boil that had been lanced of its poison. A bruise that would never fade, but it was a part of her nonetheless and she could accept that and live through the pain. Perhaps, she hoped as she drove home, it wasn't too late for her after all.

But that'd been a fool's hope. She should've known. It was too late for her... too late for Charlie.

A tentative eagerness bloomed warm in her chest when she saw Charlie's cruiser parked in front of the house. Bella wanted nothing more than to cook dinner for him, sit down and actually eat her food for once, show him that even if she'd lost the naivety of her youth she would eventually be alright. She'd never be the same, but she would find the strength to live.

No more than two steps in, Bella was slammed with the scent of coppery rust and salt.

Blood. And lots of it.

Fighting the wave of nausea and dizziness, Bella cautiously moved further into the house as a cloying fear clung to her like a large cloak swallowing her entirely. Her heart pounded against her sternum in an attempt to escape from the truth Bella already knew even without the visual confirmation. She was too late, far too late.

Charlie's mutilated body sat in his favorite chair and the vision on him torn asunder, blood spilled callously, etched itself into her mind never to be forgotten.

She collapsed at the foot of the chair, eyes wide even as tears fell like heavy raindrops over her checks and down her neck. Her breathing raced and she was in such a state of shock that the scent of blood no longer spelled a blackout. She was forced to absorb the sight of her dead father with no friendly escape.

Her eyes flickered over the scene in horrified fascination. His throat had been slit, but that had been after he'd taken the beating of a lifetime. Bruises marred over ninety percent of his body and Bella's mind leapt as she tried to comprehend the horror of her father's last moments.

A shockingly white envelop was nailed to his chest with one word scrawled on it: _Isabella_.

With a shaking hand, Bella softly tugged at the note as if not wanting to cause her father anymore pain. When it wouldn't come her hand fisted and tugged it fiercely while a sharp cry escaped from her lips. It tore free, leaving a small corner behind.

She opened it without looking, her eyes still riveted to Charlie. Gathering what little strength she had, Bella looked down at the note and read it's brief but horrific message.

_Isabella,_

_This is but a taste of what's to come – and what a delicious taste he was. It may comfort you to know he died with your name on his lips._

_Don't bother calling mommy. I stopped there first._

_Your next, little girl._

_- V_

The shaking in her limbs increased. She didn't doubt the truth behind every word written there and her heart further shattered knowing that her sweet but erratic mother had been just as brutally murdered. God, she'd failed both of her parents in the most horrific way imaginable.

Quickly, she turned and vomited what little there was in her stomach. The truth of her folly weighed heavy on her. She'd thought that after losing Edward she knew true pain, but his loss was but a mere paper cut compared to this. Her parents were both cut down in their prime owing to her own mistakes, her own stupidity for falling in love with the wrong person.

Anger roared within her, abrupt and fierce. Anger at herself, but a white hot fury was aimed directly at Edward Cullen who'd brought her into his world of monsters and had left her to fend for herself. He was just as much to blame as Bella herself. She'd bear the weight of her guilt for the rest of her life and if it was the last thing she'd do she'd find a way to make sure he would too.

Her mind started racing with what to do, but grief and anger made her thoughts flow like molasses until they honed with surprising sharpness at one thought, one realization.

With sharp precision, she folded up the letter from Victoria and stuck it into her pocket. In a heavy but clear fog she made her way up the stairs and into her room. In her closet was a seemingly innocent looking copy of _Crime and Punishment_ but when she opened the book, there was a rectangular hole missing and a small, silver cell phone rested where it had always been waiting for her. She'd hoped to never have to use it because it would mean something horrible had happened, even though a large part of her had wanted to make the call a thousand times if only to hear the soothing sound of his deep, brusque voice.

He'd come to her in secret one day at school, her mom none the wiser. It'd been years since he'd been home, years where her parents had given up on him, thinking him lost to them. But Bella had never given up hope and when he came to her that day at school and swore her to secrecy, she had known even at the tender age of thirteen that she must never speak of him to anyone. Not her parents, not Edward, not a single soul was to know of him or the cell phone he'd slipped to her.

"_For emergencies only, Eyas. Understand? You must tell no one. But always know that I love you and will always come for you if you need me."_

As she'd always done before, she'd taken what he said to heart. Trusted in his every word knowing that he'd always be there for her. He'd make it all better, somehow.

But now that the time had come to make the call, she dreaded it. Most would call the police at a time like this, but even though he'd never said anything specific about his job, Bella knew enough to know he'd have resources that the local police of Forks could only dream of. Still, she held the phone aloft in her palm, terrified by the weight of its significance. As much as she wanted to hear his reassuring voice, she was loath to tell him the truth, to confess to him how she was responsible for Renee and Charlie's horrific deaths and that even though she'd kept his promise to him, he was very much in danger as well.

He'd probably hate her, as he rightfully should. But still, there was a hollow comfort knowing that he could never hate her as much as she hated herself. She'd accept his blame as her cross to bear, but she'd never forgive herself if she didn't at least warn him about what may be coming for him next, as futile as a warning as it was.

Drawing a trembling breath, Bella opened the phone and selected the one and only number there.

It rang once, then again until it was answered and a deep, concerned voice came across. "Eyas? What's happened? What's wrong?" He would know that something terrible had happened if she was calling him.

At the sound of his voice, so strong and sure, Bella's tenuous hold on her emotions snapped and she let out a terrible sob.

"Clint," she said in a warble. "Clint," she repeated, her mind unable to form another word.

"Tell me," he breathed, sounding like he already knew what she was going to say.

"Mom and dad," she managed to gasp between the sobs, unable to find the words to complete the sentence.

But she needn't have worried. He knew. He always knew what she was saying even if she couldn't find the exact words.

He inhaled sharply.

"Clint," she cried again. "It's my fault, it's all my fault," the words spilled forth, a dark confession she was unable to keep from him.

"I doubt that, sweetheart, don't talk that way. Hang in there, little Eyas. I'm on my way."

He cut the line without another word, but Bella's relief was so intense she almost fainted. He was coming for her and somehow, he'd make it all better. Clint always made things better, like when they were kids and he'd be there to pick her up after a particularly nasty fall, cleaning her cuts with a parental patience Renee had always lacked, sealing each band-aid with a kiss.

As terrible as the situation was, a part of her secretly burned with eagerness. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at Clint and hide in his arms far away from the cruel turn her life had taken.

Her brother was finally coming home.

* * *

(A/N): So there you have it! I know you probably have questions, but much of the history is to come next chapter so please review and let me know your thoughts/impressions!

Eyas – a term for a baby/young hawk


	2. Taking Flight

(A/N): Thanks to all who decided to stick with me... I know it's an unusual pairing and crossover, but that's half the fun! Happy reading...

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_**Set My Soul Alight**_

_**Chapter One**_

Sparring with Natasha was like fighting liquid mercury. Each movement of hers was taut with a fluid tension that would look equally effortless and beautiful to the outside person.

To the one she was sparring with, however, it made her deadly.

Clint took a hit to the ribs and doubled over. He followed the motion through and tumbled into a roll ending up behind her while simultaneously swiping out his leg. She easily jumped over the transparent strike, but Clint was able to regain his footing in the amount of time it took her to dodge it.

They stood opposite of each other again and while Clint attempted to catch his breath, Natasha smirked at him.

"You're getting better," she noted.

"I'm already good," he winked at her.

It was no secret his strength lied high up in the rafters and scaffoldings with his sharp eyes and trusty bow. Still, he was no novice at hand-to-hand and whenever they found themselves at the same S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, which was actually quite often these days, Clint always made it a point to challenge the woman known as the Black Widow to a few rounds of mock fighting. He'd yet to beat her, but that wasn't really the point, he smirked as she arched her back when he came at her again.

His pride was saved by the fact that he was the only one who stood a chance against her, anyway.

Natasha twirled and Clint was mildly distracted by the way her hair flailed out and caught the light so he didn't catch the knee coming up to his gut.

"That's gonna leave a mark," he wheezed and doubled over.

She clubbed him on the back of the head and said, "That's the point, Barton. Now keep up."

Clint grinned and feinted left, which she didn't fall for. He still managed to get a hit in, though, although Natasha grabbed his arm and pulled him in while bringing up her knee and hitting him in the already forming bruise just below his ribs. He was reasonably sure she hit the same spot as before on purpose.

Still, he didn't hesitate at grabbing her knee and tripping her back. She rolled a few feet away before expertly flipping back up to her feet.

"Show off," he muttered.

She smiled.

Clint was about to strike when he felt his right pocket vibrate and a shrill ring filled the gym. He instantly froze and Natasha landed a hit to the side of his head, barely pulling it enough to avoid giving him a rather nasty headache later.

"What the hell, Barton?" she spat, annoyed at his inattention.

Her voice sounded miles away as every single one of his senses narrowed and honed in to the phone in his pocket – the phone he'd religiously charged every night and never left his person. His heart was heavy with dread and anticipation equally.

The phone rang again and he snapped out of it.

His fighting stance fell and he scrambled for his pocket, hands shaking as they finally gripped the small silver flip phone that he immediately answered.

"Eyas? What's happened? What's wrong?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line that Clint was able to measure by the heavy hammering beats of his heart. Finally, her voice came through and it was all Clint could do to keep some semblance of control.

"Clint," she said tearfully, making his heart stop. "Clint."

Slowly, his eyes closed in dread as he knew what he was about to hear. "Tell me," he encouraged her softly.

From across from him, Natasha's sharp eyes pinned him as she absorbed the scene he was making.

"Mom and dad," Bella sobbed and how he wished he was already there by her side to comfort her.

A terrible sensation of grief and fear overcame him. _How_, he wanted to ask her. _How did our parents die?_ Foreboding made his arms tingle and his hand reflexively tightened on the phone. Living on opposite sides of the country as his parents had, it couldn't have been an accident.

_It must be because of me_, he thought. Somehow or some way an old enemy had seen through the measures he'd taken to hide his family and had killed his parents, leaving his baby sister alone and unprotected.

His mind spun with the repercussions. He'd been so careful to erase his past from his present – how had someone found them?

Bella's sobbing cut off his guilt-ridden thoughts. "It's all my fault, it's all my fault," she chanted, breaking his heart.

How like his sister to blame herself... to shoulder the burden that Clint was nearly positive was his and his alone to bear. He had to get to her and fast before that kind of thinking set in and she did something stupid. He loved his sister dearly, but she had a tendency to try to take on the world by herself, never asking or expecting help. In fact, he was mildly surprised she'd even called him and knew things must be dire for her to have used her phone. He silently thanked whatever God that may be listening for the snap decision he'd made to give her that phone years ago. He knew that if he hadn't she'd quickly find herself in over her head now and likely lost to him forever.

"I doubt that, sweetheart, don't talk that way. Hang in there, little Eyas. I'm on my way."

He snapped the phone closed and his eyes fell shut. He stood there breathing for a moment, finding the repetitive reflex of sucking in air oddly reassuring. Each deep and comforting breath allowed his sorrow to give way to planning, his instincts sharpening and clearing away his grieving thoughts, if only for the moment, while he instantly turned his mind to damage control.

Thank God he was only in L.A. He knew Bella had moved to Forks to live with their dad and he'd be able to get to her within a couple hours or so. Faster, even, with his connections. There'd be no airport security, no waiting for flight clearance.

Clint was not above abusing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources in order to get to his sister as fast as possible. In fact, he relished the thought, thinking it the least his godforsaken job could do for him seeing as how it was very likely he'd gotten his parents killed.

Over his cold dead body would his sister be next.

Clint snapped back into himself like a rubber band that had been pulled taut and then released. Instantly, every party of him was in motion, every one of his faculties working towards one goal.

_I'm coming, Eyas... I'm coming_...

"Clint?" Natasha's voice sliced through his racing thoughts like a whip against his mind.

His eyes cut to her and he knew by her slight frown that his usually impassive expression was gone and his fear and concern were branded on his face, making him feel naked to her probing eyes. "I need a jet. A fast one," he muttered.

With that, he whirled to his gym bag, shoving his effects into it. He had no idea what sort of situation he'd be flying into, but he'd be prepared, as always. For Bella's sake, he had to treat this as he would any of his missions. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

"Clint!" Natasha snapped again, dogging his steps as he ran to his locker, throwing on his tactical gear before he ran to his special corner in the armory to grab his quiver and bow.

"Clint!" she shouted again, but this time she hooked her arm through his and spun him to face her.

They stared at each other for a moment, long enough that her own concern began to leak through her usual cool mask of indifference for anyone to see. Or maybe not anyone. Clint had always been able to read Natasha, to see through the personae she'd perfected for the job, just as she could with him. There was no hiding from each other.

"Tell me," she said softly, but with the timber of a command. "Who was that on The Phone?"

He closed his eyes again as his hand tightened on his bow. The way she said The Phone, with the implicit capital letters, let him know she'd been far more observant of him than he'd given her credit for. In hindsight, that was stupid of him considering Natasha was the best specifically for her attention to detail and ability to make connections. But she'd never confronted him about it, likely knowing he wouldn't have told her the truth anyway, no matter if he trusted her with his own life.

There wasn't time enough for the thorough explanation he knew she deserved, but he had to tell her something and he couldn't quite bring himself to continue his lie to her. Not anymore.

"My sister. It was my sister."

Natasha blinked once, her expression going blank.

"I have to go to her," he said softly, a hint of pleading in the words. _Please, don't be mad, Natasha_, his heart said. _I had to protect them. Had to protect her from it all. Even you_.

But he swallowed those words back like the true soldier he was. While he may regret lying to her all these years, he'd never regret doing what he thought was best for his family. Even if his carefully crafted lies were about to crumble in, he still would never apologize for protecting his baby sister. Not ever.

Natasha's eyes narrowed on him in her signature penetrative glare he was convinced could read souls. He had the distinct feeling she was reading his now, playing judge, jury, and his executioner if need be. She'd never seriously hurt him, no matter what she was capable of, but Clint didn't doubt he'd leave their next sparring session with more than mere bruises.

"I'll fly," she said abruptly, and Clint knew that was that. The interrogation was yet to come, but when push came to shove, they always had each other's backs.

She moved to go by him and Clint caught her arm. "Natasha," he said around the lump in his throat. His other hand came up to cup her cheek when she turned to him. "Thank you." He'd never meant those two words more than he did now, no matter how many times he'd said them to her in the past.

Her eyes narrowed on him again and after a moment, she gave him a sharp nod and continued walking to her gear, following his cue and suiting up for an unknown battle.

"Where are we going?" she asked. She sounded like she meant business even though he knew she was dying to get to the bottom of his secrets. But she was good at compartmentalizing and would get her answers later. For now, they were both focused on the mission.

"She lives in Forks, Washington. Closest military base is the Coast Guard in La Push."

She frowned. "They won't have a landing strip. We'll have to take the Harrier Jet. Call and arrange for ground transport once we land."

Despite the situation, Clint smirked. "Kind of feels like Bombay all over again, eh?"

Natasha frowned, unwilling to accept his peace offering of levity. "Bombay was completely different. That was an assassination. This is a rescue. So shut up and get in gear, Barton. You owe me an explanation in the air."

_Shit_, he thought, knowing she wasn't playing around. Neither was he, of course. He'd always tried to use humor or dry wit to deflect the more unsavory emotions that could pop up on a mission. Emotions like fear. This time, his fear was all the more intense knowing his sister was likely in danger.

_I'm coming, Eyas_, he thought again. _I'm coming, Bella_.

* * *

The good thing about being top field agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. was that when you demanded the use of a jet, especially in the rushed and demanding tone that Natasha had used, no one really questioned you. Explanations would be owed when they got back, but for now, it was a small thing to suit up, take flight, and make the necessary arrangements for landing in La Push.

They were in the air all of five minutes when Natasha spoke, her voice sounding deceptively light through the headset. "So you have a sister?"

Clint clenched his jaw. "Yes," he said.

"Younger?"

"By ten years."

"Quite the age gap," she noted.

"Parents had me young, while in high school. They weren't really good together but stayed married for me. Bella was an oopsie-baby too, only by then their marriage couldn't take anymore strain and they divorced soon after having her."

"Bella?"

"Isabella," he offered.

"You're close to her," she said. It was not a question.

He smiled unconsciously as he thought of his baby sister. "We lived with my mom after the divorce. She was flighty, but loving. I took care of Bella mostly."

"So you're like Brother and father, then?"

He nodded, though she couldn't see him as she was in the front pilot's seat. "Yes, through no fault of our dad's, really. I haven't spoken to her in about five years."

His mind flashed back to when he'd gone to her school after a couple years of only calls and letters that had slowly dwindled as he climbed higher and higher up in the ranks. She'd run into his arms and as it always happened, it had felt like they'd just seen each other yesterday. Even though he'd felt guilty for pulling away from his family, he'd always known a part of Bella understood. She'd always been wise for her years, growing up with their mother had done that – forced her to grow up quicker, and while he was certain she knew nothing about his real life and his job, he wouldn't be surprised if she had an inkling.

That's why he hadn't hesitated in giving her the phone. He knew she'd understand what it, and he, meant by it.

"Five years?"

"Yeah," he answered a little hoarsely before shaking himself together. "Five years."

"Since the Larson incident," she said softly, a world of understanding behind the words.

Agent Larson had been someone who thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He loved the danger of the job, the importance of each mission. But he'd loved his family just as much. He'd a wife and two kids that he adored – talked about them all the time, raved, really – which had been the problem. A mission had gone wrong and his identity was compromised.

It'd been an easy thing, sadly, for the enemy to find out about his life outside the job since Larson had never wanted to shy away from his family as though ashamed. It'd been even easier for said enemy to kidnap Larson's wife and kids, eventually killing them in front of Larson who had attempted a failed rescue mission. He'd gone mad afterwards and had killed himself with a bullet to the brain.

The incident had haunted Clint with images of his own family and him in Larson's place. He'd already distanced himself from them, taking a new name the instant he entered S.H.I.E.L.D., but he had stubbornly kept small ties and knew it was time to cut them. He'd gone to Bella before his plan had been set in motion, determined that his sister know how much he loved her and to give her an out if she ever needed one.

After Larson, he knew disappearing for good would be for the best; that it was better his parents thought him lost in battle, presumed dead, for their own safety. They'd known of his military career, if not the extent, and it'd been a small thing to make Clint Swan disappear to his family even as Clint Barton lived and breathed.

Colonel Fury had agreed with him. It'd been him who had gone to his mother's house with a folded up flag and condolences.

When he'd come back from the harrowing visit, he'd told Clint of how Bella hadn't cried but had studied him with an odd tilt to her head. After a moment of staring at each other, she seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion and had looked more resigned than sad. After that, she'd gone to where her mother was sobbing on the couch, throwing a comforting arm around her shaking form even as she stared at Colonel Fury with a faintly knowing glint to her eyes.

"I've never seen eyes like that on a kid," Fury had told him. "So observant, almost penetrating. Reminded me of Agent Romanoff, in a way."

As sad as he was to put his parents through that sort of pain, a corner of his heart had thrived knowing that Bella, his little Eyas, knew better.

"I had to Natasha. I couldn't take the risk with them. With her," he said as his mind focused on the present. "But now it all feels pointless."

"Why's that?"

"Bella is smart," he said gruffly. "She'd never give up on me, just as I'd never give up on her. She wouldn't ever believe me gone without a body for proof. I knew a part of her would always be searching for me so I went to her and told her just enough to give her hope, to keep her faith in me. Maybe that was selfish, but I couldn't leave her helpless. I gave her a phone and kept its match with me always. Just in case of an emergency."

His teeth gritted as he thought of Bella sobbing into the phone, the realization that their parents were dead.

"So what's the emergency?" she asked carefully.

She sensed his sorrow and nearly overwhelming anger, but needed all the facts before entering the situation. Now was not the time for sparing feelings and mistakes.

"Parents are dead. They live on opposite ends of the country," he bit out, knowing she'd pick up on what he was implying.

"Not an accident, then," she murmured darkly, already knowing he was blaming himself, thinking someone was attacking him through them.

"Bella's alone and defenseless," the words and their truth had him leaning forward in his seat as though to propel the jet even faster.

There was a sudden burst of speed that had him sitting back in the seat once more.

"Not for long," Natasha promised grimly.

What would've taken them about two and a half hours to fly commercially was cut down to one hour in the military jet. Soon enough they were landing at the Coast Guard base in La Push, a Humvee waiting for them just over to the side of the landing pad. There was no runway to land a normal jet on which was why they'd taken the Harrier and Natasha executed a textbook vertical landing without the need of a long stretch of asphalt.

There was some personnel waiting for them, but their clearance was indefinite in all factions of the military, so it was a small thing to wave a badge, spout off some numbered level nonsense about security and then hop into the Humvee and peel out of the base at breakneck speed.

_Almost there, Eyas, almost there_, Clint chanted in his mind, his white-knuckled grip on the wheel expertly steering them towards Forks where his baby sister waited for him.

They made it within twenty minutes to the Swan home and Clint swallowed grimly as he saw the yellow tape and cop cars blocking off entrance to the house. A group of pedestrians were gathered across the street, huddled together and gossiping about the events.

"Get out your badge," he ordered Natasha.

Somewhere behind that yellow tape was his baby sister and no rent-a-cop in a Podunk town was going to keep him from her.

They marched with grim determination towards the house, Clint vaguely recognizing Billy Black in his wheelchair as close to the yellow tape as he could get with tears running down his cheeks.

Without a hint of hesitation, he and Natasha ducked under the yellow tape and kept walking.

"Sir? Sir you can't be here!"

But Clint's sharp eyes were already scanning the perimeter for his sister and he found her almost instantly. She looked smaller than he remembered, sitting with her arms around her knees on the corner of the front porch, ignoring some officer kneeling beside her. Even from here, he could see the pain in her eyes, a broken hollowness that had his feet moving forward and his fists clenching, ready to deck anyone who got in his way as he went to her.

Behind him, Natasha was showing a badge, stating credentials and covering their tracks while allowing them access to the crime scene.

But none of that was important, not to Clint. Covering their tracks was the last thing on his mind when he saw the officer by Bella reach out what was supposed to be a comforting hand to her, causing her to flinch back.

Growling under his breath, Clint jogged the last few steps and his vice-like grip wrapped around the officer's wrist to prevent the outstretched hand from attempting contact again.

"Don't. Touch. Her," he nearly growled, tightening his grip with each word.

Bella's head immediately snapped up.

"Clint!" she gasped, and the tears she'd been refusing to let fall were set free again.

"Eyas," he breathed as he swooped down and pulled her to him, relief making his arms shake as he tightened them around her. And like he'd thought before, it was like no time had passed since he saw her last. Their bond was unequivocal and impervious to things like time and distance.

"Sh-h," he hushed her, aware of Natasha making her way up the steps behind him. "I've got you."

"It's not safe," she muttered into his shoulder.

Clint pulled back to look down at her. Her eyes were different from the last he'd seen her. The youthful innocence that usually twinkled along with the sheen of an old soul, had dimmed and disappeared. There was a hollowness that went beyond the tragedy of their parents' deaths. Someone had hurt his sister, taken away her smile.

That person would pay.

But first, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and said as comfortingly as possible. "Tell me exactly what happened, Isabella."

Her breathing shuddered and her eyes flickered to the lingering cops by them before meeting his gaze again. Immediately, he knew she couldn't tell him everything _exactly_, not with extra ears nearby.

Whatever small hope he'd been secretly clinging to that it was all just a terrible accident dissipated at that telling look.

Breathing deep, Clint reluctantly pulled away from her. "I need to go inside, Eyas," he said.

Instantly, Bella's breathing quickened and she started shaking her head _no_. "Please Clint – you can't. Don't leave me."

Torn, Clint looked down. He had to see the scene; he had to find the clues the cops wouldn't be looking for. But he was loathe to leave Bella. Now that he had her again, he never wanted to let her out of his sight.

"Go," Natasha breathed quietly. "I'll stay with her."

She edge closer to them, a tentative hand coming to rest on Bella's shoulder.

Clint looked deep into her eyes. "Thanks Nat."

Looking down at Bella again, he saw her watching them with her usual observing eyes flicking between them. Finally, they rested on him and he read the question there. _Am I safe with her?_

He nodded slightly and Bella willingly moved to Natasha's side.

"Be quick," she whispered. "I already have what you're looking for anyway."

He frowned at her, a new fear starting to take him as he wondered just how much his sister actually knew about his life and the death of their parents. Exactly what made her think this was _her_ fault. Regardless of their secrets, he knew they'd stand beside each other. They'd both know the truth soon enough.

Steeling himself, Clint moved away from them and into the house. The scene he found there was one from nightmares. His father, a socially awkward man that had truly loved his children, sat brutally torn asunder, shredded as though a wild animal had clawed through him.

Clint swallowed, fighting back the urge to vomit... and cry.

Mentally, he distanced himself and tried to pretend that man wasn't his father. Wasn't the man that taught him how to catch, how to shoot a bow.

Five minutes was all it took for him to know the scene was clean. Literally clean. As in impossibly clean. With the type of wounds Charlie had, blood should be sprayed everywhere but the amount was minimal.

Something was definitely not right.

Exiting the house, he paused in front of the door for a moment to gather himself, trying to hold it together for Bella. When he went out, he saw that Natasha had moved Bella to a secluded spot by the tree in the front yard, her arm still kept comfortingly around her as the shorter girl stared absently towards the woods, only moving when she heard him coming to them.

Once he reached them he hugged her automatically, his eyes closing and the image of their father's body burning behind his eyelids.

"Clint?" Natasha asked.

He sighed into Bella's hair, pulled back and shook his head at Natasha. "It doesn't add up," he muttered. "The scene isn't faked, but it's not right as well."

Bella took a step back, shaking slightly and suddenly refusing to meet his gaze.

"Eyas?" he asked in concern, his hand reaching to her.

"Don't," she said, her lip trembling like he remembered it had always done when she was younger. "You won't want to comfort me. Not after I tell you."

The same fear from earlier rose again. "Tell me what?" he asked with a hint of command.

Bella sighed again and reached into her back pocket. "I didn't call the police. They came by because Charlie missed his shift and wasn't answering. I knew they couldn't do anything and I was going to wait for you, but once they were here, all I said was that I'd found him like – like _that_, after coming home from a hiking trip."

"Hiking?" he asked dubiously. Bella was not known for her coordination and her love of the outdoors.

She shook her head as her tears overwhelmed her again. Removing her hand from her pocket, Clint saw a folded white piece of paper shaking between her fingers, spots of blood lingering on the corners. He took it from her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face.

"It was," her throat closed off and she cleared it and started again, "it was n-nailed to his chest." Her hand extended it out to him resolutely

Horror filled him as he imagined what must be written there. A threat, a promise to take away his loved ones because of some foiled scheme or the like. He was loathe to read it, but knew he had to.

Finally tearing his eyes away from hers, he looked down at the terrible white papered death omen and his mind froze as he saw a name scrawled there, not his own as he had imagined it would be.

_Isabella_.

His eyes flew to hers again and her lip quivered.

"Read it," she said, her voice deadened. "Read it and I'll tell you everything."

Clint looked at her a moment longer, trying to read her but unable to, much to his frustration.

With heavy hands and heart, Clint unfolded the letter and read it, the world he thought he knew shattering with each word.

* * *

(A/N): So some answers here... and more questions. Stay tuned for more!


	3. With a Heavy Heart

**(A/N):** Hi again! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Someone asked me about what POVs I'll be doing... I have an outline (subject to change, of course) that I'm following, but I don't plan POVs, I tend to write as whatever character speaks to me first, as you'll soon see.

There will be mature chapters in the future that will be edited for this site. If you would like to read unedited and unrated, please follow my wordpress (linked on my profile). I tend to update their first anyway. I will let you all know in an A/N if a chapter has been edited to fit this site's guidelines...

Now happy reading!

* * *

_**Set My Soul Alight**_

_**Chapter Two**_

Natasha frowned down at the slim girl under her arm. Not known as a warm person by nature, she'd always looked upon others with the cold glint of suspicion that held them at bay, never allowing them too close as she knew the danger closeness bred.

Clint had been different from the start. Unnaturally persistent, he'd taken her coldness as a challenge and at face value, always treating her like an actual person; a friend, not an agent or assassin. He'd been fearless with her, open and unassuming until her trust sparked and grew, consuming every facet of their relationship. She remembered every mission where he had covered her or she him; recalled every time he'd pushed her out of the way of a stray bullet or a flying fist. There wasn't any part of herself that she didn't trust to Clint Barton.

Which was why she continued to mechanically move her arm up and down the girl's shoulder in a hollow act of comfort. She knew there was nothing she could do or say that would assuage the young woman's pain. Still, she tried, knowing that by comforting Isabella she was comforting Clint by association.

Years of training had her steering them to the tree near the front of the house. It removed them from the immediate vicinity of the local police and brought them further away from the gathering crowd of pedestrians already gossiping and shooting Bella pitying glances. As she scanned the small crowd suspiciously, her eyes alighted on a small group of Native American boys, from the La Push reservation they'd flown into she imagined, all wearing cut off jeans and no shirts. She eyed them narrowly, disliking how their gaze never strayed from Bella.

She would keep watch and deal with them if necessary.

Silent tears made their way down Bella's cheeks and the girl brought her arms around herself and shivered despite the unseasonal warmth there. Natasha recognized the signs of shock instantly, her criticizing eyes sharpening in on the tight hug the girl was giving herself as though holding her person together by sheer willpower alone. A stiff breeze would be enough to shatter the poor girl.

Studying her shaking form, Natasha noted her pallid skin, her hollow eyes and thinning cheeks – all physical signs of grief, yet it was too soon to see them in response to the untimely death of her parents. The girl had been mourning even before this tragedy and Natasha felt her stomach tighten in suspicion even as she tried to talk herself out of it. For Clint's sake, she didn't want to imagine that Bella had played any nefarious part in the demise of her parents.

Natasha tightened the arm around Bella as her mind scattered for something, anything she could say that would help her.

"Clint will find something, Bella," she ended up saying, though the words were mechanic and wooden. "He'll make it alright."

Bella didn't seem all that interested in her presence, but when Natasha spoke, she turned her broken gaze to her. "He won't," she rasped. "He won't want anything to do with me as soon as he knows."

Natasha's entire body tightened as she read the guilt dripping from every word.

_Please_, she thought desperately. _Please don't make me have to take care of this girl_. _Not this girl_.

She would, though, if necessary. To spare Clint the pain, Natasha would do what must be done if this girl turned out to be a danger to him. He would forever hate her for it, she had no doubt, but she'd protect Clint – even from himself.

"But he needs to know," Bella muttered and it sounded like she was talking to herself. "It's too late for me, but he's kept himself so well hidden that she likely doesn't know about him," she cut herself off with a tiny sob before she continued, "He deserves the truth, just in case, and then I will leave. I will keep him safe."

Abruptly, all of Natasha's concerns evaporated. _So alike_, she thought. This girl and Clint were so very alike. She remembered the crippling guilt and fierce determination that had gripped Clint as they made their way up there and saw it echoed in Bella Swan.

This was not a girl with a nefarious plan. If anything, this was a girl who may have gotten in over her head and was now shouldering the burden of guilt all by herself in order to protect someone she cared for deeply. Bella Swan wasn't a part of an evil conspiracy to get to Clint, she was just someone in trouble and instead of worrying about herself, all she was concerned with was keeping her brother safe.

Even at her own expense.

_So, so alike_, she thought again as Clint finally left the house. She saw him pause just outside the door to collect himself. Whatever it was he'd seen lingered around him – his shoulders tense, a slight green tint to his face. It was bad, she realized. Not much shook Clint anymore and to see him so visibly torn made long buried instincts of protection swell within her chest. Even discounting the fact that he'd just seen his father's dead body and so was naturally upset, she could tell it ran deeper than that. She knew Clint Barton better than anyone, perhaps save the girl under her arm, and knew that whatever he had just seen wasn't only tragic, but it had also been gruesome.

Which meant this was personal. They'd already suspected as such, of course, but the confirmation of it brought a cold awareness to Natasha.

Now, she only had to find out which one of these two siblings was being targeted, and given Isabella's guilt-ridden grief, Natasha already knew which way that was leaning.

It was going to be a long night, she thought.

* * *

_Isabella,_

_This is but a taste of what's to come – and what a delicious taste he was. It may comfort you to know he died with your name on his lips._

_Don't bother calling mommy. I stopped there first._

_Your next, little girl._

___- V_

Uncomprehending, Clint stared at the note. Each word individually made sense, but lined up together and in the order that they were didn't translate. It might as well have been written in Russian for all the sense this godawful situation was making.

Except Clint could read Russian, so there went that theory.

"Eyas?" he asked, looking from the bloodstained paper in his shaking hand to his little sister.

He saw her lip quiver again and was abruptly thrown back to when she'd been a little kid, seven years old, and had fallen off the monkey bars and broken her wrist. Their mother hadn't noticed at first, but Clint always kept a close eye on Bella when they went to the park and had flown to her side instantly.

Her lip had quivered in much the same way it was now, and he'd swept away her tears with a smile as he'd told her, "Shush now. You'll be okay. I've got you, little bird. Clint's got you."

Suddenly, Bella's hunched shoulders straightened determinedly and she lifted her head to gaze at him intently. Fear clutched him and he dreaded whatever she was about to say as she faced him down like she was in front of a firing squad for execution.

"What I have to tell you, Clint, is dangerous. I'm sorry, so very sorry, more than I can ever say – and I won't," her voice cracked but she stubbornly continued, "I won't expect you to forgive me, but I couldn't _not_ warn you. I love you too much to let you suffer in ignorance. You won't have to see me ever again, but please let me explain."

"What bullshit is this, Eyas?" he smiled sadly. "You know I would never, ever abandon you. Even when I had to let mom and dad think I was gone, Isabella... I couldn't do that to you. I will always be here for you. Always," he spoke with the heavy solemnity of a vow made in his own blood.

"You say that now," she murmured tearfully. "But you'll change your mind and leave me. Everyone's always leaving me."

For a brief second, Clint forgot all about the note and simply hugged his sister to him as she sobbed. It was so obvious that something had happened to his Eyas; someone had left a scar on her heart and stolen the tentative optimism she'd always had.

His sister was broken and it had nothing to do with their parents' deaths.

Before he could do or say anything, someone intruded on their moment.

"Bella," a voice whispered sadly, and Clint could detect a heavy note of pity that had both his and his sister's backs stiffening.

"Jacob," she greeted vacantly, looking at a large Native American boy who Clint decided must be on steroids he was so built. Then her gaze went to his left and she greeted another. "Billy."

"You should come home with us, Bella. The police are going to be done with the clean up within the hour and they said you could leave with us after you've given an official statement."

Clint's hands tightened around her and he didn't even bother to hide his defensiveness as he snapped, "She isn't going anywhere with you."

Beside them, Natasha drew up evenly to him in a silent show of agreement. As always, she was poised to spring, ready to attack and defend if necessary.

The one not in a wheelchair, Jacob, shook violently. "That's not for you to say," he hissed.

"Like hell it isn't," Clint snapped.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the kid demanded.

"Jacob," the one called Billy said reprovingly.

Realization slipped over him, chilling him like the first sip of ice water. "Billy? Billy Black?"

The man looked at him curiously, his head tilted to the side as he clearly tried to place him in his memory. Clint could tell the instant it hit him as he paled rather impressively for a man of his skin tone and looked as if he faced a ghost. "Clint? Little Clinton Swan?"

Barton – he wanted to correct him but didn't. That was something he needed to explain to Bella before anyone else. "Hey there, Billy," he said in confirmation.

"As I live and breathe," Billy muttered in amazement. "You're supposed to be dead, boy."

Bella flinched and Clint could have smacked the guy for all his tactfulness. "Look," he said uncharitably. "Isabella and I are talking about family matters. I know you guys mean well, but she's not going anywhere with you, so if you'll excuse us..."

The kid stepped forward. "I don't know who you are, but –"

"No," he cut him off, slowly moving Bella behind him as he faced the angry teen. "You wouldn't remember me. You were still wetting the bed when I last saw you last, kid."

"What the hell?" Jacob barked.

"Jake," Bella cut in, moving to stand beside Clint while reaching down and holding his hand. "This is my brother Clint."

"You don't have a brother," the kid shot back without really even registering his words.

Bella's lip trembled and Clint wanted to deck the guy for being such a dick. Before he could do or say anything though, Bella said sharply, "I don't have time for this. Thank you for the offer, Billy, but I'm staying with Clint and his girlfriend. We'll take care of Charlie's arrangements and notify you when everything is set. Now if you'll excuse us?"

The boy tried to reach out to her, but Clint was quick to pull her into his side with a warning glare. "Bells," Jake said. "It's not safe here for you. You need to come to the Rez where I can look after you."

Clint's eyes narrowed on the boy suspiciously. He sounded like he knew something, but also implied a hidden threat. It was as if he knew that Charlie's death was no accident, knew that someone out there was going to come after his sister next.

And if the kid did know that, then that made him a suspect, a danger to his sister.

Natasha clearly felt the same because he could see her hand drifting to rest over her gun, her fingers twitching to draw and shoot at any sign of aggression towards them.

"Don't talk about things you can't even hope to understand. This is a family affair. You need to leave now," Bella told him coldly and Clint watched as each word landed on the kid like a verbal slap to the face.

The boy went to take a step forward and Clint tensed in preparation to spring.

"Jacob!" a new voice barked.

Another Native American boy jogged forward. He, too, wore jean shorts and lacked a shirt – _don't they have shirts in La Push_, Clint thought snidely – but he carried himself as if he was wearing a power suit. He had an air of leader about him and Clint wasn't all too surprised when Jake seemed to heed his call.

"We need to leave," the newcomer said, practically ignoring them as he looked only to Jake.

"But Sam –"

"Now, Jacob!" the guy, Sam, barked.

With a heavy air of reluctance, Jake turned and stalked after Sam while Billy lingered. The poor man seemed unable to look away from Clint, as if he feared to do so would make him disappear again.

"I don't understand," Billy muttered. "You were declared dead, Clint. We mourned you – Charlie never stopped mourning for you."

Clint swallowed thickly as he pictured his proud father grieving for him in his own quiet way. Charlie Swan had been a man of many emotions but had kept them in tight rein. Everything about his dad had been understated but so completely genuine. He remembered the camping trips of his youth spent fishing and hunting. His dad had bought him his first bow and taught him the value of a steady hand and keen eye. To people not close to Charlie Swan he may have seemed a stoic man, but Clint remembered the light of pride in his father's eyes the first time his arrow had hit a bullseye. He remembered him awkwardly humoring his sister to a mock tea party when they'd visited him one summer. Charlie Swan may have appeared as calm and steady as a winter lake, but he ran deeper than any ocean.

Shaking off the memories, Clint rubbed Bella's back reassuringly as he turned her away from Billy. "We can talk later, Billy. Right now I need to be with my sister."

Billy nodded somewhat reluctantly. "If you need anything, Bella, anything at all, you know where I'm at."

Not looking at him, she nodded distractedly and only relaxed in Clint's arms when he'd gone.

"Something's off with that boy," Natasha remarked quietly.

Clint agreed. "Yeah, but we'll figure it out later. Right now we need to get these people out of here and take of the arrangements for Charlie. Then we'll have to see about things in Florida with Renee... maybe it was an empty threat and she's fine?"

Bella sniffled in his arms. "It isn't. She killed her for real this time, I'm sure of it."

His eyes fell closed and he took a deep breath in an attempt to remain calm. "_This_ time, Eyas? There's been other times?"

She looked to the floor in a decided show of guilt. "I'll explain it all, Clint, and then you can leave with your friend."

He gripped her arms and bent down to catch her eyes. "You listen to me and listen well, little bird. I'm not leaving you and I don't buy for one minute that this is your fault. Feel me?"

She shook her head as more tears fell.

"Now stop that, Isabella," he said firmly. "Now is not the time for a pity party. We both owe each other some answers and once we see to that, I'll take care of you. Don't I always take care of you, Eyas?"

She sighed and brought her arms up around him. "Yes Clint, you always do. I've missed you so much, big brother."

Resting his cheek against the top of her head, Clint squeezed her tightly to him. "And I've missed you, Bella. So much."

"Incoming," Natasha warned softly as one of the deputies made their way over.

The next thirty minutes or so were spent with Bella giving her official statement to the officer as the coroner finally arrived to clear out Charlie's body. Clint listened to Bella's words absently, noting her subtle tells that confirmed she was lying to the man writing down her every word. But he was also surprised to see she'd learned to lie so well. If he hadn't known her as well as he did, he would have believed her every word.

As it was, her newfound lying ability brought him a sense of sadness even if he knew it'd come in handy in the future. Someone only became good at something with practice and Clint's already racing mind pushed even faster as he wondered exactly how long his sister had been spinning lies in order to craft them so well.

The door to their house opened and Clint quickly moved to block Bella's line of sight as the coroner finally wheeled out Charlie's body. He himself couldn't keep from staring at the black bag on the stretcher and knew it was an image that would forever linger in his memories of his father. He didn't want the same for Bella. It was bad enough she'd been the one to find his body and was unable to unsee the gruesome murder scene, but there was a stark finality that came with that black body bag that made Clint's heart ache. He couldn't do anything to take away the memory of their father's mutilated body from Bella's mind, but he'd do whatever possible to keep from adding to the terrible images.

Finally, the police deemed the place clean and with fervent promises to keep her updated on the case, they left Bella alone, sending to good townsfolk of Forks back to their homes as well.

As cars and people slowly cleared out, Bella stood awkwardly in front of Clint and Natasha, unable to meet either of their eyes.

"So, Mark says we can go in now," she muttered, looking to the house, then back to the floor.

She looked like she would rather eat asphalt than go into her once safe and welcoming home, but again, Clint was mildly impressed at his sister fortitude as she straightened her shoulders and resolutely walked towards the house.

Her courage was fleeting, however. No more than two steps into the home and Bella froze, her eyes darting to the living room and locking on the chair that had served as Charlie's deathbed. It had been his favorite, Clint remembered, which made the visual all the more horrifying. Every memory of him in it, now tainted with the knowledge that it had been where he'd died.

It was Natasha who brought them both out of it.

"Let's go to the kitchen," she said, her tone soft but brooking no refusal.

Clint snapped to it and put his arm around Bella while steering her into said kitchen.

Bella cleared her throat. "I'm sorry – Um, I don't mean this in a bad way, but please, who are you?"

Mentally, Clint slapped himself for not introducing them properly. Obviously introductions had been low on his to-do list of priorities, but he should have done it before now.

"Bella, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is my sister Bella. We work together, Eyas. She's kind of like my partner."

Her eyes darted between the two of them and a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth let Clint know Bella saw far more between them than anyone else did. He shouldn't have been surprised she would pick up on the dual meaning of the word 'partner'... Bella had always known when Clint had been sweet on a girl.

"I'd say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances," Natasha trailed off, looking a mite awkward. He felt bad that their first meeting would be forever shadowed by the circumstances that had brought them together but he also hoped that Bella would be able to see past Natasha's brusque and cool exterior that served to hide an unexpectedly soft heart.

Bella gave a half-hearted, tired smile and nodded. "So I suppose I should just come out and say it, no more dancing around the issue, right?" She fiddled nervously with her fingers and bit her lip as she again refused to meet anyone's eyes. "I don't even know where to start," she sighed.

"Just take your time and start at the beginning, Eyas," Clint said comfortingly. "Natasha and I are here to help you."

Suddenly he felt like he was a hostage negotiator in the process of talking someone down from the edge. Interrogations had never been his area of expertise – that'd always been Natasha's bread and butter – and he had no desire to see his sister as someone that needed to be interrogated, but knew he'd have to think as such if he wanted to get the answers that would ultimately help him protect her.

"I don't know if you'll believe me," she muttered, tucking a long strand of hair behind your ear. "It's kind of... well, unbelievable, to be honest."

Clint and Natasha locked eyes. He remembered the recent events in New Mexico where he'd witnessed a smack down of mythical proportions between two Gods. He thought about the file that S.H.I.E.L.D. had detailing the life of Bruce Banner and his angry alter-ego. Then Clint thought about the man known as Captain America who'd been frozen in ice for decades before being thawed out, living and surprisingly spry for an old geezer. And not to forget, as if he'd let someone forget about him, there was the man of iron himself, Tony Stark, who pretty much specialized in insane feats of nature.

"You'd be surprised what I'd believe, Eyas," he finally said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

She looked doubtful, but started talking. "A lot has happened, Clint. I'm not even sure where the beginning is anymore... Guess I should start with them – the Cullens."

The way she said the name, a small shudder wracking her slim body as she rubbed her chest like one massaged an aching bruise, made Clint stand at attention.

"Does this have anything to do with the Phoenix Incident?"

Bella frowned. "You know about that?"

She sounded partly impressed, but mostly horrified.

"Eyas," he shook his head sadly. "Even though I couldn't be there doesn't mean I _was never there_. I've always kept tabs on you guys."

Clint remembered learning about her running off to Phoenix, supposedly because of some boy – Edward Cullen, he'd learned the name was – and now that she'd brought up the name Cullen in such a pain-filled tremor, he was starting to make connections. He'd never thought it in character for her to run away because of a fight with a boy and when he'd learned of the Phoenix Incident, heard about her supposedly tripping down some stairs and falling through a window, a red flag of warning had instantly been raised. Isabella had always kept a clear and level head where her emotions were concerned, both she and Clint were very much like their father in that respect, and the whole story had sounded suspect to him from the beginning.

But she'd never called him. She'd had the phone for some time by then and if she'd needed to, she would have called him. Wouldn't she have? He'd consoled himself with that thought at the time, but now he was not so sure. Isabella was incredibly self-sacrificing when it came to her loved ones and had always tried to protect them, even at her own expense. She and Clint were so much alike in that respect, and now Clint's eyes were opened to a new, far more likely scenario when he contemplated the Phoenix Incident, as he'd dubbed it.

Isabella had been in real danger but hadn't called him. In the only way she could, she'd protected him by keeping him away.

The realization gave him a tight sinking feeling in his gut like he'd swallowed a lump of lead. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since her calling him and Clint found his whole world twirling on end like some sick parody of a toy spinning top. He'd sacrificed his connection to his sister in order to save her and now he was finding out she'd likely been doing the same for him.

"I think it's time we put all our cards out on the table," Natasha said bluntly, but her tone was surprisingly conciliatory.

Of the two of them, Natasha was the expert in information gathering. She was the agent sent on impossible missions to gain facts and Clint was more the observer, the person they sent with her to keep an eye on the situation; the person who would just simply put an arrow through someone's eye if they refused to cooperate with Natasha's interrogation methods.

"You both are very alike," Natasha noted, and he really shouldn't have been surprised that she was obviously making the same connections he was. "Clint cut ties to keep you safe, you allowed them to stay cut for the same reason, yes?"

Bella looked from her to Clint, then back to Natasha again. Her one worded answer sat heavily on his heart. "Yes," she whispered.

"Alright," Natasha allowed, and Clint found himself entirely grateful that she'd appeared to have deemed it necessary to take over for them. Both he and Bella were understandably emotional and Clint's training melted away under his sister's suffering. He was incapable of asking the necessary questions; incapable of treating his sister like an interrogation suspect.

Natasha, however, was not. "The Cullens," she stated, her eyes softening mildly when Bella flinched at the name. "They are the people responsible for your troubles?"

Clint's mind went to every possible outcome, but focused on the few that revolved around criminals, gangs... mafia. Good lord, did his sister fall in love with someone with mafia connections? His mind replayed scenes from _The Godfather_ and he felt the urge to vomit.

Isabella's eyes shifted nervously before closing resolutely. "They – they aren't exactly people," her voice cracked. "They aren't exactly... human."

A deafening silence thundered.

"Tell us," Natasha demanded. "You must tell us everything."

And so Bella did. Each word fell onto Clint like the lash of a whip, scarring his heart for the pain he'd left his sister to suffer alone. She spoke of meeting Edward Cullen, how they fell in love – or so she'd thought – and how she'd uncovered their dark secret.

Vampires.

Then she spoke of being hunted by James, how she'd sacrificed herself in Phoenix when she'd thought he'd had their mother, only to find out she'd been tricked and had been lured to what was supposed to have been her death. She spoke of all the ways Edward Cullen had failed her – he'd kept pulling her closer only to push her away.

He'd toyed with her, Clint decided, fury shaking him to the core. This creature had done more than break his sister's heart. He'd wounded her very soul.

And then he had abandoned her. Left her alone in a world where she knew too much and was unable to protect herself from the dangers she'd been exposed to. Edward Cullen had done more than merely break her – he'd obliterated her. He and his entire family had destroyed her just as surely as if they had killed Charlie themselves and not this Victoria character Bella told them about.

He watched as each word purged from her. He saw the shame darkening her eyes and the guilt settle heavily on her shoulders. It was so clear that she blamed herself for it all, though it made him happy to see she reserved a large amount of anger for this so-called family of vampires. But his sister carried the weight of their father and mother's deaths on her heart as though it had been her hand that had snatched their lives. She held herself responsible and looked at Clint as if he was a ticking bomb about to explode and destroy her as well.

But that was ridiculously, he wanted to yell at her. How could she ever believe he'd condemn her and leave her to die tortuously at the hands of some sadistic monster?

"Eyas," he muttered, her nickname filled with the sorrow in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Clint," she needlessly apologized. "I'm so sorry I got our parents killed."

She shattered before him like spun glass, sobs spilling from her lips as she collapsed to her knees as though she was about to beg him for forgiveness.

He was at her side instantly, his arms holding her to him as he rock her soothingly. "Shush now. You'll be okay. I've got you, little bird. Clint's got you," he echoed the very words of their youth. He meant them now more than ever. "I won't let you go. It's not your fault, Eyas. It's not your fault."

_It's their fault_, his mind hissed. And as he held his sister to him he vowed that after they sorted out this bitch Victoria, the Cullens would be next.

No body fucked with his sister and got away with it.

* * *

**(A/N):** So Clint knows, but he has much to explain to Bella now, doesn't he? Up next, we meet S.H.I.E.L.D. and possibly an Avenger or two ;) For those wondering, Loki is scheduled to appear in chapter 4, maybe 5 if I get verbose, so hang in there!

Please drop me a review and let me know what you think!


	4. Meetings

**(A/N):** Some people have asked if I have an updating schedule... I do, tentatively. As I have another story going on, I hope to update both stories every other week, making it so there's a chapter each week for one of them. This is not a promise, mind you, as real life happens, but it is my goal.

Hope you enjoy this chapter... I haven't edited too thoroughly, so please forgive any silly mistakes.

Happy reading, y'all!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Meetings**

The building was... Shiny. And big. Not obnoxiously so like Stark Tower which they had driven by on the way there, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters Clint and Natasha had brought her to was obviously well funded and expanse even though it was remarkably nondescript on the outside. Oddly, it'd looked like a post office and she'd initially been surprised as they'd pulled in.

Bella bit her lip and walked a little closer to Clint when a man in a sharp black suit gave her a penetrating look.

"Ignore him, Eyas. You tend to get a little paranoid in this business."

She didn't doubt that. Spies, assassins... Her mind was still whirling after all that Clint had shared with her over the past few days. She'd always suspected something like it, but to actually have confirmation that her big brother was a key member in a special faction of the military only a select few were aware of – Well, it had been a daunting discovery.

At first, they'd focused on keeping on eye out for Victoria as they prepared Charlie's funeral. It hadn't taken long for authorities to contact them about Phil and Renee's deaths as well. An accident, the officer had told them over the phone, likely caused by Phil swerving to miss an animal in the road.

Though she had been accepting it, the confirmation had hit Bella like a sledgehammer to her chest. She'd hyperventilated to the point of passing out and when she awoke again, Clint had nearly settled all the arrangements for their burials and he'd insisted on her relaxing, of all things.

On a cold Sunday morning, Charlie Swan was laid to rest in a simple ceremony that nearly the whole town turned out for, including a good many from the Quileute Reservation. Bella had been uncomfortably aware of Jacob staring at her the whole time while he'd been sitting beside his father. After she and Clint had said their quiet goodbyes at the simple but beautiful marble tombstone – only his name and the years of his birth and death with the words _Beloved Father_ engraved underneath – and had made their way to the car, Jacob had intercepted them in another attempt to get her to live on the reservation, spouting off nonsense about protection and things he really didn't understand.

Clint had put him in his place, giving him a verbal lashing that almost had Bella feeling sorry for the boy who had once been her friend, but then she remembered all his talk of not abandoning her when in the end that was exactly what he'd done. He may not have been as cruel about it as Edward had, but Jacob Black had so easily cut her out of his life weeks ago despite her attempts to reach out to him.

In the end, she decided to follow his lead and closed off the small part of her heart he'd once held. The loss of his friendship had been salt in the wounds Edward had created, but now, after Charlie and Renee, Bella simply didn't have the patience for his youthfulness. It felt like she'd aged years within the span of hours and while at one time she could see herself welcoming Jake back into her life, now all she saw was a boy playing at being a man.

So ignorant, she recalled thinking as he'd tried to strong arm her into coming home with him. So naïve. She hadn't meant it negatively, but had settled on the thought wistfully, knowing that saying goodbye to Jacob was like saying goodbye to her own naivety. She almost envied him for it, but resolved to make herself stronger now that her rose-colored glasses were shattered.

Clint would help with that, she knew. With the loss of her parents, Bella had lost herself and was unsure who she was. Too much heartache in a short amount of time had destroyed her. She walked around almost like a blank canvas waiting to be colored and with time, she'd know what to draw.

With Charlie seen to and Bella's roots to Forks thoroughly severed, they'd packed up all of the sentimental items and simply sold everything else while making their way to Florida.

In some ways, settling Renee's affairs had been easier. Phil's parents had seen to most of the arrangements before they'd even arrived and Renee had never had the foresight to make any lasting investments or ties that would require their attention.

Natasha had stayed with Bella as Clint used his connections to get the police report of the accident. Bella figured she already knew what had happened, though. Victoria, or a friend of hers, had likely run head first into their car. The denting and tire marks were consistent with the theory that they'd swerved to miss an animal, but had likely hit it and lost control of the vehicle. Bella reckoned it was true, only that the animal had really been a monster.

There was a deep finality the resounded within her as they'd left Florida and made their way to New York. Of course, with death often times came that sense – a sense of definitiveness, of a resolute ending. Some likened it to a peacefulness settling in, an acceptance of circumstances unchangeable.

Bella felt no such acceptance or peace. Instead, she felt the bitter finality of her childhood ending, the definitive hole in her heart that would always be reserved for her parents. Also, she felt a rage that burned her hollow. An anger so deep aimed not only at herself, but also at every last one of the Cullens – _at Edward_ – who all should've known better. They'd called her daughter, sister, and love alike, but had abandoned her to the ravages of a deranged mate. Whether they knew about the risk or not, if they really had cared, they would've taken care of Victoria _just in case_.

It was what Bella would've done – it was what Clint _did_ do by leaving her the cell phone. Family never completely leaves a member completely behind, not if they truly cared. Clint hadn't been able to be there for her, but he'd made sure he would be able to help her should she need it.

She knew her rage was echoed in Clint. He'd not directed an ounce of blame at her and reserved all of his hate and anger for Victoria and the Cullens. She'd been lightheaded with relief even as she still blamed herself, especially since she knew his life was dangerous enough as it was. The last thing she wanted was to add more to his plate, but he'd been adamant that he, and by extension S.H.I.E.L.D., could help her.

Bella doubted it. No matter their resources and money, in her mind, nothing could beat a vampire, especially one as vindictive as Victoria.

When she'd said as such, Natasha had smiled grimly and said a mysterious, "You'd be surprised at our own connections to super beings."

That was another thing that had caught her off guard. Natasha Romanoff wasn't nice exactly, but she spoke with a directness that Bella admired and carried herself with an air of danger that Bella flat out envied. She could see the small tell-tale signs of caring within her, mostly when she and Clint would talk quietly together, and occasionally when she'd awkwardly comfort Bella. But Natasha was remarkably calm even when Bella could tell she was upset.

Clearly, she was a woman who could handle herself even when faced with vampires and Bella was rather jealous of that.

Eyeing her from the corner of her eye as they made their way to a debriefing room, Bella thought that maybe she could ask her to teach her self-defense. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Bella was smart enough to know that it wasn't physical strength alone that made Natasha deadly competent. Sometimes the best defensive came in simply containing thoughts and emotions while making others lose theirs. She suspected _that_ was where Natasha truly excelled.

But she was still too intimidated by her to ask for such a favor. Sure, she'd likely say yes even if only because she was Clint's sister, but a forced agreement like that only led to resentment. Bella surprised herself by how much she wanted Natasha to like her; not just because she admired her as a strong woman, but because she so obviously loved Clint with a passion doused in ice and secured deep within herself.

And Clint damn near worshipped the ground Natasha walked on, so there was that.

She was happy that her brother seemed to have found someone that made him happy despite his dangerous life. She didn't imagine espionage and assassinations left a lot of time for dating, so she was happy that he hadn't been alone all these years. While Charlie and Renee had thought him dead, they'd still had Bella and hadn't been left alone. Clint, however, had been the odd man out. Often times, Bella would think of him, worry about whatever it was that had made him take such drastic measures to protect her and their parents. She'd worried about him trying to take on the world alone but seeing him with Natasha and knowing she'd been at his side for the majority of it, Bella's relief was absolute. She knew she owed the woman a great debt that could never truly be repaid. It seemed odd to ask her for another favor on top of it.

"Who are we meeting again?" He'd told her before, but her mind had been uncharacteristically spacey. It was all she could do to steer her thoughts away from the dark images of Charlie's body that haunted her constantly.

Clint gave her a worried look, but answered, "Phil Coulson. He's kind of the go-to guy around here."

She frowned, looking away as another agent glared at her. "Is he like your handler or something?"

Natasha snorted. "Or something."

"Actually," Clint smiled vaguely. "That's not a bad comparison. He has his hand in pretty much everything around here. He's Fury's number two."

That name she remembered. Colonel Fury had been the one that came to them in Phoenix, a folded up flag under his arm as he spewed condolences. She'd known it for a lie though he'd appeared genuinely sorry and sympathetic. Still, she remembered being irrationally angry at the man come to tear her family apart even if for a good cause. She wasn't exactly excited to meet him again, even if she was being unfair.

When they finally came to the room, Bella thought it looked vaguely like a conference room from an insurance office or something, only done up with stainless steel tables and chairs. It was vaguely intimidating.

"Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff," a voice greeted as the door opened and a man walked in, presumably Agent Coulson.

She studied the man quietly and was shocked at the rather nondescript appeal of him. He looked like an FBI desk jockey, or maybe an insurance salesman. Nothing about his appearance said _dangerous agent_ but she new his mild appearance could be deceiving.

"Hey Phil," Clint grinned.

Phil, as she'd correctly assumed, gave him an unamused look. "Fury's not too happy with you, Barton, so I'm not sure why your smiling."

Clint had taken the time to explain the name-thing to her, but it was unnerving to hear her brother referred to by a fake name, no matter if he wore it more surely than he ever had Swan.

"I'm not sorry," Clint said baldly. "What would you have done?"

Phil softened some and finally looked at her. She noticed the same suspicious glint in his eyes as she'd seen in others, but his was tempered by kindness. He looked almost apologetic for being skeptical of her.

"Hello," he said calmly. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson," and then he offered his hand to her.

Bella stood up straighter and accepted the handshake. His grip was strong and searching. Bella remembered Charlie telling her how a man could tell a lot about a person's handshake, so despite her fear and uncertainty, Bella squeezed his hand with equal direct firmness and said, "Bella Swan."

Phil's lips lifted some and Bella felt as though she'd passed some sort of test.

"It's nice to meet you, Bella Swan, though I regret the circumstances. Your brother tells us you have a bit of a situation we may be able to help you with. Tell me about it, please."

Uncertain, Bella looked to Clint who gave her a reassuring nod and obediently, Bella told her story of vampires and secretly worried if Agent Coulson, whose face remained perfectly blank, was ready to reserve a room for her at the nearest looney bin.

But as she fell silent, she was surprised when he addressed Clint and Natasha passively, saying, "We're not unaware of their existence. We've yet to make contact with them, but there's a large group within Volterra, Italy that have been on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for some time now."

"You mean the Volturi," Bella interrupted, her mind going blank with shock as she remembered Carlisle telling her about them as he stitched up her arm.

Agent Coulson turned to her and gave her another searching look. "You know them?"

"No, but I know of them. They're kind of like vampire royalty. The coven is ruled by three brothers and they're kind of like the self-appointed rulers of the vampire world. They make sure that other vampires remain inconspicuous and that no humans can find out their secret. They're very powerful and very dangerous."

"Hm," Phil said, looking entirely unconcerned about having been spying on the ruling coven of vampires. "I suppose we should let them think they're still undetected then."

"Yeah, they probably wouldn't take too kindly in knowing there's a group of humans aware of them and capable of wiping them out," Clint said dryly.

"But are you?" Bella snapped, mildly annoyed at her brother's levity. "You haven't seen what they're capable of, Clint. As if their speed and strength alone weren't enough, some of them are gifted and are capable of killing you without even touching you."

"You mean they'll kill you with their brain," Clint interjected with an exaggerated shocked voice, his lips twitching as he fought a smile.

Bella's rant was effectively shut down at the reference to their favorite television show. She and Clint had watched _Firefly_ religiously and had even stayed up late one night after it'd been cancelled penning strongly worded letters of protest. Bella had been a little more polite and subtle than Clint had been; he'd simply hocked a loogie into a blank piece of paper, folding it up smartly and sending to the address for FOX Studios they'd found via google.

Unable to help herself, Bella erupted into a fit of giggles at the memory. Clint was laughing too and it she could feel the tension and years that had separated them melt away as if they'd never been. No matter how terrible the present circumstances were, she could always count on Clint to make her feel better, even if it was just a silly reference to their favorite show.

As their laughter trailed off, Agent Coulson cleared his throat and placidly said, "I also enjoy that show."

Bella and Clint lost it again. A good five minutes went past with them slowly controlling their laughter only to look at each other and start again. Phil watched them with a small almost-smile and Natasha tried to appear disapproving but even she couldn't hide the humoring light in her eyes as she stared at them.

By the time they were able to control themselves, Bella's gut ached and dried tears stained her cheeks. "I haven't laughed like that since..." the trailing thought sobered her even more and turned her smile sad. "Since before you left, big brother."

Regretting it the instant the thought was vocalized, there was a stab of sorrow to her heart when Clint winced. "I didn't mean it that way, Clint," she apologised.

"It's okay, Eyas. I know how you meant it." He gave her a reassuring smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Right," Natasha cut through the awkward moment. "So about that demented vampire after Isabella..."

"Well," Phil said. "We certainly have the technology to wipe out vampires on a global level, but one on one is a little more tricky."

Bella frowned and Natasha clarified, "We can't very well nuke a single vampire, but I doubt that coven in Italy would survive such an attack."

"Well shit," she said. The idea had never occurred to her that with the scientific advancements in modern technology that a vampires marble skin was, well, outdated.

"But to harness that type of an attack on a singular level is far more tricky," Clint said.

"We could always ask the Captain if he's ready to come out of retirement," Natasha proposed.

Phil shook his head. "It wouldn't hurt but doesn't exactly solve the problem of protecting Isabella and even the organization from within. This Victoria may be able to breach the building and it's a security risk if the agents won't be able to defend themselves properly."

"What about the tess – "

"That's not something you should be talking about, Agent Barton," a new person interjected sharply, and though she hadn't heard it in years, she recognized the voice of Colonel Fury instantly.

Bella turned and saw his gaze was fixed unerringly on her, his expression blank but vaguely intimidating.

"Isabella Swan," he said, and in her mind, Bella heard the follow-up words, _as I live and breathe_.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she greeted him coolly, "Colonel Fury."

"Somehow," he shook his head but uncrossed his arms and looked slightly more welcoming. "I always knew I'd see you again."

She didn't know what to say to that so remained quiet, looking at Clint from the corner of her eye for support.

"Colonel Fury, I can explain," Clint began, but Fury cut him off.

"Explain? Explain what, exactly? How your sister called you on a phone she was never meant to have? How she delivered some news that had you and Agent Romanoff abandoning your posts, commandeering a harrier jet and abusing other S.H.I.E.L.D. Resources to satisfy your personal agenda...?"

Bella stood up straighter, poised to defend her brother and his friend, but Fury held a stalling hand up and continued, "No explanation needed, Barton. What else is family for?" he dismissed, his glare softening and the flat line of his mouth easing.

Nearly collapsing in relief, Bella sighed, her definsive posture dropping her shoulders into a tired slope.

"So what's this I hear about a vampire with a vendetta?"

Clint snorted. "That kind of sounds like a bad romance novel title... _Vampire with a Vendetta_..."

Bella pressed her lips together, but couldn't prevent her snort of amusement. It would have been naïve of her to think Clint was completely unchanged after five years, but it was reassuring to see that some things were the same.

"Well as I'm not in the business of penning trashy romances, I think it's about time you get to the point, Agent," Fury said, his head tilting to the side pointedly.

Clint stood straighter and cleared his throat. "Right away, sir."

He then proceeded to tell Fury everything Bella had told him, even though she was mildly certain the man had read it all in a file somewhere already.

"Hm," was all Fury said when Clint fell silent.

"Orders, Director Fury?" asked Coulson.

Seeming to come to some sort of decision, Fury turned to Phil and said, "Alert the Captain. He's our best bet against her unless the man with the hammer finds his way back down here. Stark was notified yesterday about a possible consultation. The suit may be equipped with weapons strong enough to penetrate a vampire's skin. It'll require testing but he may be able to develop something on a smaller for us to use as well."

"Tony Stark," Natasha stated slowly. "You sure that's the best idea, Director?"

Bella would have to have been living under a rock to not know who they were talking about. Though it sometimes felt that way in Forks, Bella had not been living with her head in the sand and had followed the story of Tony Stark and the Iron Man almost religiously. She actually thought he was rather brilliant... and extremely good looking.

And cocky, arrogant... but she took those traits at face value, viewing them as an extension of the armor he'd built to save lives.

She'd followed his story on the news diligently, her curiosity getting the better of her, and while she'd never been a typical teenage girl crushing on boy bands or actors, there'd just been something about Tony Stark. Handsome, charismatic, but even in the interviews she'd watched on the TV, she could see there were hidden depths to him.

So Bella's first celebrity crush was born, a secret she had guarded close to her heart. She realized the futility of it but it'd been harmless and surprisingly freeing to act like a teenager for once. There was nothing wrong, she'd told herself, with admiring a witty, good looking man who saved lives in his spare time.

"You know of another weapons expert capable of creating something seemingly impossible?" Fury asked.

"With all do respect, Director Fury, Tony Stark is – "

"Sexy, brilliant, incredibly good in bed... I can go on..."

Bella's heart skipped a beat and a blush tinted her cheeks. Though he sounded slightly different in person than on TV, there was no mistaking the voice of the person who had just swaggered in.

Natasha lifted a brow. "I was going to say arrogant, impulsive..."

Tony walked further into the room and Bella could make out his profile and a sharp gray suit that no doubt cost more than everything she'd ever worn put together.

"You see, you arrogant and impulsive, and I hear confident and good instincts."

"That is your prerogative," Natasha coolly allowed.

"Now why do you wound me so, Agent Romanoff? I'm here to help save the day, rescue the damsel in distress – speaking of," he turned to Bella and offered his hand, "Hello there, Damsel. I'm Tony, your knight in shinning armor, I'm sure."

Her cheeks grew hotter and she finally turned to face him, biting her lip as she accepted his hand. It was firmer than she thought it would be, roughened with calluses that spoke of strength and hard work. Instead of shaking it, he turned her hand over and planted a polite kiss of her knuckles, smiling in good humor as her mouth fell open and her blush spread further.

"Really, Eyas?" Clint glared at her knowingly, but still amused.

She shrugged and tugged her hand back, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "What? He's funny... and nice."

"And the answer to your vampire problems. Come on now, sweetheart, tell Uncle Tony all about Icky Vicky and I'll cook you up something to take care of her."

Smiling, Bella once again repeated her story though she was equally sure that, just like Fury, he'd read it already in a secret file. She wondered why everyone seemed intent on hearing it from her, but gathered it was their way of confirming her tale, looking for inconsistencies. Or maybe they were hoping that each recounting of it would force her to look harder and deeper into her memories and possibly allow her to recall something that could be of use.

She doubted it. The only way to truly kill a vampire – that she was aware of, at least – was to rip them apart and burn the pieces. She told them as such, too.

"Sounds messy," Tony stated. "And smelly."

Unconsciously, Bella's hand drifted to the scar on her wrist. She remembered, even through the searing pain raging throughout her body, the smell of smoke and the sickeningly sweet scent that had burned her noes as James had been destroyed.

"It is," she said quietly.

Tony stared at her. She was worried she'd see something like pity in his eyes. It'd been one of her fears in telling so many people her story. Clint, she knew, would never pity her even if he adamantly wished she'd never experienced all that she had. Natasha just wasn't the pitying type, so Bella needn't worry there. Fury and Coulson had been coolly factual and vaguely polite with her. She had a feeling they saw her more as a case than a person, but thought that might change as they got to know each other.

But there was nothing pitying in the look Tony gave her. It was commiserating, if anything, not exactly sympathetic but empathetic. She'd been right about Tony Stark, her first and only celebrity crush, all along, Bella realized. Despite his sarcastic flair, he had a surprisingly soft heart.

"Well, Hells Bells," he said, breaking his stare and giving everyone else in the room a pointed stare. "Sounds like we've got work to do."

"You really think you can create something that can stop her? Even if only a little bit and this Captain person can finish the rest?"

Tony snorted. "You don't need that, grandpa – you've got me," he smiled at her and she smiled back. "You said their skin is like marble, right? Well, marble isn't indestructible. Give me a few hours, a day at most, and I'll have something we can start testing in my lab tomorrow. You know where it's at, right, sweetheart?"

She snorted. "Kind of hard to miss that eyesore."

Tony grinned. "That'd be the point." He looked over to Clint and said, "Bring her by around nine and we'll start testing. In the meantime, I'd recommend whipping her into shape if she's gonna be hanging around you troublemakers."

"You're one to talk," Clint said dryly. "But yes, some training would probably do you well, Eyas. I can train you starting tonight."

"No," Natasha said. "You'll be too soft. I'll do it."

Bella looked to her and smiled shyly. "If you don't mind. I don't want to be a bother."

Natasha's hard gaze softened slightly. "It's no trouble, Bella. Besides, it's best if you learn from another woman as there are certain... methods you can use to your advantage that your brother probably wouldn't be too happy about."

Clint grimaced.

"And that'd be my exit cue," Tony said.

"Don't think it's escaped my notice that you broke into a secret meeting, Stark," Fury spoke up. "It won't be happening again."

Tony gave him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Captain!" Then he turned to Phil, "Pepper said to thank you for that casserole recipe. Turned out great."

Phil nodded with a small smile. Bella already knew it was probably the man's equivalent to a grin. "My pleasure."

"Agent Romanoff," Tony turned to Natasha. "Always a pleasure."

"I'm sure," she allowed with a smirk.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Robin Hood," he nodded to Clint then turned to Bella. "See you tomorrow, Hells Bells. Stay shiny."

Bella blushed even as her mind stuttered.

_How had he known they'd been talking about Firefly_...

Natasha rolled. "He's bugged the office. Again."

While sadness and guilt still weighed heavily on her heart, Bella felt a small part of her bitterness chip away as she lost herself in a fit of giggles.

Tony Stark was everything she imagined him to be and then some. She was looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

**(A/N):** Hope you think Tony was as fun as I thought he was... also hoped you enjoyed the Firefly references too. One of my all time fave shows – and I get to meet Nathan Fillion in June!

Please review and let me know what you think... Next chapter: time with Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. Also, a little glimpse of our favorite trickster :)


	5. Falling

**(A/N):** Just a couple days late... I was working on a new crossover site I have the good fortune of being an admin on pretty much all weekend. It's not live yet, but I look forward to sharing the details with you all later.

Also, my lovely friend 4Padfoot made a stellar trailer for this story. You can find it on my wordpress account or on youtube, links for both located on my profile. Fair warning, you may die of awesomeness overload! Also, I'm not a huge Kristen Stewart fan, never have been even before the Twilight movies, and I always imagined Emmy Rossum as Bella, so that's who is in the video. Won't hurt my feelings if you picture KStew as you read though – to each their own!

Happy reading...

* * *

**Chapter 4: Falling**

He fell. Through the cracks within space and the divide between the realms, Loki Laufeyson fell – out of favor, out of love, with his home and people.

Forsaken, the word rose unbidden. Abandoned. Forever cold in the shadow of Thor, the favored son.

Falling through a wormhole gave perspective, time for thought and reflection. Loki fell, kept alive only by his magic, sheer willfulness, and the power radiating in Odin's spear which he had caught when it'd fallen after him. He indulged in such contemplation until his mind went numb with the terrible burden of a lie fed to him from his infancy shattering, leaving the truth glimmering amongst the shards. Odinson and Asgardian he may not be, but he was still a prince by birthright and deserving of the throne so long dangled before him.

As Odin, his once father, had taken away the throne of Asgard and handed it to his bumbling oaf of a brother – well, Loki was just going to have to create his own thrown. His own kingdom united under the glory of his rule.

Cocooned in the safety of his magic, he envisioned it meticulously. Without a conscious decision, he pictured his dominion to be over Midgard, the Earth Thor so coveted. Thor had never been good at sharing his toys as a child and so Loki had long since learned to take what he wanted, not by force, but through the magic of his silver-tongue.

Yes, he decided, he would take Midgard right out from under his idiot brother. The thrumming vibration of his magic sounded in approval.

For all of Thor's brute strength, he understood little of the nature and power of the type of magic Loki and their mother, Frigga, possessed. Magic was sentient and had a will to thrive. It was more of a partnership or symbiotic relationship between magic and wielder. When Loki tired, his magic buoyed him. It had saved him more times than he was willing to admit, guided him throughout the years to his rightful path.

It protected him now, along with the energy in Odin's spear, keeping him alive after he had fallen from the Bifrost bridge and into the wormhole caused by its destruction. He'd counted on it, naturally, which is why he had let go in the face of his once father's denial. Thor had roared his name as he'd fallen weightlessly into the void but Loki's heart had already hardened against him.

He would show him. He would show them all what vengeance they had wrought by betraying him.

Again, his magic hummed but it tasted more of acceptance rather than approval. This was the correct path, Loki sensed, but the intuition his magic afforded him seemed to say it would not be the destination he predicted.

"Show me," he commanded, and like liquid fire, he felt his magic increase tenfold and searing heat shot through the spear, images rapidly overtaking his vision.

He saw much as he anticipated. Him with an army, conquering Midgard.

But then the vision turned and the expression on his future self's face smacked of remorse, of all the senseless emotions. From behind him, a figure moved forward. A woman, he could tell by the shape and silhouette of her curves. He could not make out her features but she had long, brown hair with a slight curl that blew in the breeze. The brown locks reached for him, latching onto his shoulder in a visible line connecting them. He saw his vision self tense at her approach before he relaxed in silent surrender. The woman slid her hand into his and Loki returned her grasp with equal fervor.

Loki hissed in denial and the vision cut off. Foolish magic, he sneered, knowing that his knack for trickery and illusions likely meant the vision was false.

False, he told himself as the picture lingered and he clung to the image of brown hair and curves, the silent show of support and affection in their clasped hands. False.

Never before had he been shown something so specific. More often than not, he was led by the increased intuition that magic gifted its casters, but had never been shown such images. He was unsure of what the new development in his magic meant, but suspected wielding Odin's spear, even for such a short time, had been like using a conduit, strengthening the wild nature of his sorcery.

Regardless, Loki pushed all thoughts away and concentrated on the sensation of falling, the sense of freedom it brought. He fell for a long time before he felt a force, similar to magic, but feeling vaguely sinister, stretch out and latch upon him, pulling him until he landed with a smacking thud on grey dirt, his breath heaving and limbs weary.

"Loki of Asgard," a voice hissed gratingly.

"No," Loki snarled, his fist curling around the spear. "I am Loki of Jotunheim."

"Hm," the hooded figure intoned. "Come with me. The master is expecting you."

Loki rose and despite a vague sense of misgiving, followed the creature to what he knew would be his destiny.

* * *

There was not an inch of her that didn't ache.

Bella laid in bed, focusing on the monotonous spin of the ceiling fan while trying to ignore the dull ache of muscles never used. Muscles she never knew she had.

Natasha had been predictably unsympathetic in their workout. Immediately after Tony Stark's departure she'd hustled Bella out from under Clint's wing and into a locker room, silently handing her a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. Wordlessly, Bella had changed, eager to prove herself an obedient student, part in thanks to Natasha for taking the commitment into whipping her into shape, but also in hopes that it might make easier to get to know the woman her brother loved, even if he had not confessed as much yet.

In her mind, she'd imagined a scene similar to Army movies when they cover boot camp training, but what had really occurred was something far more normal, though no less painful. After copious amounts of stretching, Natasha had her running laps until the cramp in her side threatened to have her vomit all over the pretty gym S.H.I.E.L.D. stocked to the nines.

"Keep going," Natasha had intoned as Bella started to lag, and gritting her teeth, Bella had stubbornly pushed the pain to the back of her mind and continued at her brisk jog.

When Natasha bid her stop, she handed her a towel and some water, instructing her to start stretching again.

"You're good with pain," she noted, stretching alongside her.

Bella was mildly annoyed, but not even remotely surprised, that the woman had not even broken a sweat after their run. Shrugging, Bella said, "Not really. Just stubborn."

She was reward with a small twitch of Natasha's lips. "Like your brother," she noted coolly, but Bella could detect the humor there.

Snorting, Bella said, "Everything I learned, I learned from him."

"Do you have his coordination?" Natasha asked and blinked slowly as Bella broke out into gasping laughs.

"Lord no," she chuckled. "I can trip over air. But I am observant," she confessed, giving Natasha a pointed look intended to inform the woman that she knew just what she meant to her brother. And more importantly, what Clint meant to her.

Of course, Natasha was nonplussed. "I've noticed," she said dryly.

Changing the subject, Bella asked, "So, what next?"

"We need to work on your core muscles, basically your stomach down to your thighs. Endurance is important, so we'll keep with the running as your warm up, but endurance won't mean a thing if you can't put any strength behind it."

"Are you going to teach me to fight?" Bella asked curiously, mildly excited at the thought. It vaguely reminded her of the time Clint had taught her how to throw a punch when Tim, their then neighbor, had tried to steal a kiss. Renee was a strong advocate of _make love, not war_ and had forbidden Clint to show her such things, but that hadn't stopped her brother once Renee had left for a date, or whatever artsy class she'd signed up for, leaving Clint to watch over her.

"Yes," Natasha said mildly, smiling slightly at Bella's small grin. "But only after we get you into shape and build your strength. There's a certain art form to fighting, at least the style I'll be teaching you. It's fluid and you have to understand and control each part of your body. Whereas some would teach you to rely on strength alone, I'm going to show you how to use someone's strength against them."

Seemed appropriate, Bella thought, as she may be fighting vampires and would be hopelessly out matched in the strength department.

"Why do I need to build up strength if the way I'll be fighting turns strength into a weakness?" she asked curiously.

"Because it'll turn _their_ strength into weakness, not yours. And you should never feel less than perfectly strong when faced with an opponent, especially as a woman. We will hone your entire body and you will adapt your fighting methods based on whatever scenario you find yourself in."

She knew it would be involved and while her excitement was still there, it was dimmed in the face of self-doubt. "Sounds intense," she said, biting her lip nervously.

Natasha read her perfectly. "It is, but it's doable. You have a lot of promise, Isabella. You listen to orders and don't hesitate to follow through, even when your body protests. Stubbornness will help you go far."

Bella relaxed somewhat. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't thank me," Natasha said. "It's not a compliment, but a fact. Besides, we're not done yet and you may be cursing me before the hour's up."

She'd laughed lightly, but little did she know how true Natasha was. Bella hadn't cursed her _out loud_, but with every squat, every push up and sit up Natasha barked at her to do, a new swear word flashed in her head and tickled her tongue. That handy stubbornness Natasha had praised was the only thing that'd kept them from flying from her lips.

That didn't stop her now that she was in her room, though.

"Son of a bitch," she moaned, giving her neck a testing stretch, frowning as it twinged.

There was a light knock on the door and Clint stuck his head in.

"How you feeling, Eyas?" he asked knowingly.

Bella snorted. "Like everything hurts. Even my toe nails hurt."

He chuckled and came into her room dangling a small bag in front of him as he closed the door behind him. "Who's your hero?"

"Depends... what's in the bag?"

He set the bag down on her nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Lotion, drugs and a heating pack."

Bella grinned. "Then _you_ are my hero, big brother," she said, sitting up and propping herself up against the headboard.

"I'm sorry we have to sleep here at S.H.I.E.L.D." Clint said softly. "I know it's not the most welcoming of places, but without knowing where Victoria is, it's safer here. When we get her sorted, I'll take you to my super secret lair."

Bella sighed and smiled at his half-hearted joke. "It's not so bad. Room's actually bigger than the one at Forks."

Which was true. As cold and impersonal as the room was, it was surprisingly well accommodated. There was a full sized bed, a small attached bathroom with a standing shower, and even a TV attached to the wall. It was done in tones of grey which made the room detached from warmth, like a blank canvas waiting for color. It made her slightly more depressed. She had some photos taken with them from Forks, but she was scared to look at the smiling family portraits and kept them packed up, hidden under her clothes.

Clint smiled knowingly. "I'm staying here too, Eyas, just across the hall. I hate to tell you, but until we handle this Victoria situation, you're stuck with me."

"Oh the horror," she said in exaggerated disgust.

He bumped shoulders with her as he moved to sit up against the headboard next to her. "Pest," he smiled.

Smothering a laugh, Bella rested her head against Clint's shoulder, thankful for his comforting presence in this new environment.

"How you holding up, kid? We haven't really had much time to talk, need to know basics aside."

Bella shrugged in false indifference.

"Hey," Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed comfortingly. "Don't be like that. This is me, Eyas. You know you can tell me anything."

"I'm just," she started, stopping briefly to clear her throat. "I just wish I could go back in time to when I met Edward Cullen and told him to go straight to hell like I should've done. I know you say it isn't, but how can it not be my fault? Mom and dad are dead because I fell in love with the wrong person."

"Mom and dad are dead because of a psychotic bitch, Isabella. Not because you fell in love. If you want someone to blame, Victoria's your target. Or better yet, we can blame that fucking vampire family that should have known better than to bring a young girl into their world and then abandon her to its mercy."

She sniffed. "Abandoned. That's exactly how I felt when he left me collapsed in the woods by Charlie's house. Abandoned and forsaken by them all. I think that's why I lost myself to grief so completely. It wasn't just Edward who'd discarded me like a toy, but the entire family. I thought," she took a deep breath as her voice quivered. "They made me believe they all loved me and yet they deserted me. Everything I had thought was true turned into this ugly lie. The others didn't even say goodbye, only Edward. If you can call what he did a goodbye."

"That wasn't a goodbye, Eyas. That was an act of cowardice. The fucker played on your insecurities and fucked with your mind. He'd probably been doing it the whole time you were together and you were just too innocent to know the difference."

A part of her wanted to deny it, but she could see the truth behind his words. Edward had always made her feel weak and helplessness, made her dependent on him in an unhealthy way, not just for approval, but protection. But she'd lived for seventeen years without his interference, without him there preventing her from tripping and stumbling through life. He'd always taken it upon himself to catch her in such moments of clumsiness and because of it she'd fallen more often, unable to find her own balance. He'd made her rely on him for even such basic things in her life as walking.

"I feel used, Clint," she confessed. "I don't even think I know who I am anymore. I'm such an idiot."

"Hey now," he whispered as she started to cry lightly. "It'll be alright, you'll see. I'll help you find yourself, Eyas."

Bella sniffled. "And I also feel guilty," she said lowly against his shoulder. "Because a part of me is so happy that you're here, that we're together again. I've missed you so much."

"I've miss you too, little sister, and I guess I feel guilty because I'm happy we're together too."

"I know you blame yourself for this too, Clint, for not being there," she said.

"If I had," he started.

"No. If you won't let me blame myself, then you're not allowed to blame yourself," she said firmly.

"Is that how this works?" he murmured dryly into her hair.

"Yes," she said stubbornly.

"Brat," he called her, pinching her side.

"Ow!" she yelped. "Careful! You're girlfriend packs a punch."

"Girlfriend," he muttered, pulling away. "That obvious?"

Bella grinned. "It is to me. You love each other very much. It shows in little ways. You've been through a lot with her, haven't you?"

He nodded. "Natasha and I have a long history. I've always been able to count on her for everything. She's saved my life many times."

"I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. It was always one of the things I was worried about after you disappeared. You were clearly into some serious business and I worried that you wouldn't have anyone you can trust or who would look out for you. It made me want to find you and hug you," she smiled.

"You know," Clint began quietly. "Just about everyone here has a codename, an alias of sorts. Natasha is called Black Widow – appropriate, I know. What do you think they call me?"

"I don't know," she said with a grin. "Angry beaver?"

He snorted at the reference of one of her favorite cartoon shows that he'd often humored her with watching. "Ha, ha," he said sarcastically. "But no. They call me Hawkeye, Isabella."

Bella froze, her mind going back to a summer with their father. He and Clint had wanted to go hunting and she'd tagged along with a book. Clint had always favored the bow and arrow. He'd been unerringly accurate and Charlie had crowed, "You've got the eyes of a hawk, boy!"

And without looking up from her book, Bella had chimed, "Yep. He's Hawkeye."

It'd been her nickname for him ever since, something she often called him teasingly but always with strong affection. He'd pretended to hate it at first, but on the rare occasions they'd fight and she was angry with him, he'd secretly long to hear the nickname from her lips. When she dropped Clinton and went back to Hawkeye he always knew he'd been forgiven.

Bella sniffled at the revelation.

"So you see," Clint said, his voice suspiciously hoarse. "You were always there with me. Every time I heard the name, I heard your voice and saw your face. It gave me strength and comfort."

There was a heavy, emotional silence between them until Bella said, "Well, do I get a codename? Is everyone going to start calling me Eyas?"

Clint snorted a laugh. "Nope. That's my name for you."

She nudged him with her shoulder again. "That hardly seems fair."

"Tough," he said. "Besides, do you really want to be known as baby hawk to everyone else? Once you're ready, you'll find a codename that reflects your inner strength and shows it to the world. But to me, Isabella, you'll always be Eyas."

"I love you, Clint," she murmured. "It feels like I've finally come home now that we're together again."

"I know, me too, kiddo," he said. "I'll leave you to get some rest. You probably need it after an hour in the gym with Natasha."

"Seriously," she playfully groaned. "That woman is deadly. But I like her," she smiled at him reassuringly.

"She's not so tough," Clint huffed. "I can take her."

"Bullshit," Bella called.

Clint laughed. "You only ever curse when I'm around, Eyas. I must be a bad influence."

Shaking her head, Bella gave him a hug even as she pushed him out of her bed. "You're the best influence, big brother. I can say whatever I want without fear of repercussion or judgment. Don't ever doubt that you make me better, not worse."

"You're so sappy, Isabella," he teased, but she saw the glint of pride in his eyes. "Now get some sleep. Take those pills and use the lotion – it'll help, I promise. We've got a big day at Stark Tower with your boyfriend tomorrow."

"Clint!" she hissed, tossing her pillow at him.

Laughing, he caught it and threw it back to her. "What? I think it's cute, Eyas. You're first celebrity crush. So adorable."

A wicked curse was poised to fly from her lips, but Clint quickly ducked out of her room in retreat. She could hear him chuckling in the hall.

"Mother fucker," she said under her breath, but found herself grinning at the comfort the familiar scene lent.

Quickly, she took the ibuprofen and used the lotion. She was too tired to bother with the heating pack, so she left it in the bag to use another day as she burrowed under the covers.

Though she was exhausted, sleep proved elusive. With every strange creak or thump, Bella found herself jumping or tensing in preparation for some unseen attacker. Eventually, exhaustion won out and she drifted off to a fretful sleep.

It was Clint bouncing on her bed that startled her awake the next morning.

"You jerk," she groaned sleepily, hiding her head under the pillow.

"Rise and shine, Eyas. Big day ahead of us."

She growled.

"Well, isn't that the cutest thing," he said mockingly. "Whatsa' matter? Did you not sleep alright?"

Bella shrugged, still refusing to come out from under the pillow. "It took a while to fall asleep, but when I did, I had some weird dreams."

Clint snickered. "Well, that's all a part of growing up, little Eyas. Don't worry, I won't tell Tony about how you..."

A pillow smacking him in the face cut him off. "You're such a jerk!"

"Alright, alright," he said lightly, taking her hand and hauling her upright. "I'll stop teasing. What were your dreams really about then?"

Bella frowned and looked off to the side. "It was the strangest thing. There was so much darkness, but it was broken up by bits of random shards of colorful light... and I was falling. It was a never-ending free fall and I felt so – so lost. Betrayed even. But also very angry."

"Strange," Clint murmured. "If only I had one of Renee's dream interpretation books," he teased.

Bella sniffed a laugh, shaking off the vestiges of the powerful images she'd dreamt. "Who really believes in that stuff anyway."

They shared a fond smile in remembrance of their mother.

"Come on, little bird. Time to start the day."

* * *

Stark Tower was every bit as obnoxious on the inside as it was on the out. Everything was so shiny that it almost hurt to look at it. Bella imagined Tony paid a fortune just for a cleaning crew to come in and wipe away fingerprints from the glaring surfaces. It made her want to draw happy faces for them to find.

"Hello Agents Romanoff, Barton," a brisk but friendly voice called out.

Bella turned towards an elevator and saw a tall, thin woman with ginger hair. She recognized her easily as Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's go-to gal.

"And you must be Isabella," Pepper smiled warmly with an outstretched hand.

"Bella," she corrected with a smile, accepting the handshake as she looked wide eyed around.

"A bit ostentatious, isn't it?" Pepper smiled confidingly.

Bella suppressed a grin and shrugged politely.

"Yes, well, that's Tony for you," Pepper said airily. Bella saw her eyes twinkle when she said Tony's name and felt a simultaneous jolt of warmth and jealousy over their obvious relationship. The warmth was a genuine happiness that they were obviously happy together, and the jealousy didn't have so much to do with the fact that Pepper was dating her silly crush so much as it was that Bella found herself slowly being surrounded by people deeply in love. It only highlighted her lonesomeness and made her heart twinge with envy.

Nonetheless, Bella smiled at Pepper as she led them all to the elevator punching in a special code to take them to Tony's lab. The elevator doors slid shut with a familiar ding, but once it started moving, Bella could help but laugh.

"Black Sabbath as elevator music, really?" she giggled as Ozzy Osbourne sang Iron Man.

Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint was smothering a grin. Pepper beamed and shrugged with a dismissive, "Tony," as if that explained it all.

It rather did.

When the elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors opened, Bella went wide-eyed in amazement. Controlled chaos was probably the best way to describe it. There were tools everywhere, loud tinkering sounds coming from one corner of the room where someone, presumably Tony, was tossing chunks of metal behind him.

"Jarvis, run diagnostics," Tony called out.

"Very good, sir," a disembodied voice intoned, radiating English politeness. "Tests show a probability of fifty-five percent success rate."

"That's not good enough," Tony said.

"No sir," Jarvis agreed.

"Tony," Pepper called out. "Your guests are here."

Breaking him out of whatever train of thought he was lost in, Tony started and looked over at them, a charming grin quirking his lips as he spotted her.

"Well don't be shy, Hells Bells, take a look around. Pretty cool isn't it?"

Bella smiled. "Yeah, actually it is pretty nifty."

Tony snorts. "Nifty she says."

"Oh I'm sorry," Bella rolled her eyes. "I meant to say messy."

"Sheath those claws, sweetheart. Come see what Uncle Tony made you."

Bella walked over, the others trailing behind her. In his hands, Tony held a contraption that vaguely resembled a gun.

"Um," Bella bit her lip. "It looks... complicated."

Tony rolled his eyes. "See this?" he pointed to a small piece of metal. "That's the trigger. You pull it and it goes bang, bang. Simple as that."

"Though it doesn't sound quite ready yet," Natasha pointed out, referencing the probability reading they'd come in hearing.

"Well who invited you, party pooper?" Tony quipped. "It's not quite ready, if you must know. I think it's time for a break. Anyone hungry? I'm hungry. Let's go get breakfast."

"But we just got here," Bella said.

"Yes," Tony agreed, setting the gun down. "And now we're leaving. I feel like crepes, anyone want crepes? Let's go to Ihop and get some crepes. Or maybe the rooty tooty fresh and fruity."

"Tony," Pepper said. "They just got here. Don't you want to show them what you've been up all night working on before you highjack their day?"

"I thought that's what I just did," he deadpanned. "Time for food now. I'm hungry, isn't anyone else hungry?" he asked, turning his eyes right at Bella.

Bella bit her lip. She actually was rather hungry. She hadn't been eating properly for weeks now and with recent events, her appetite had been even more absent and fickle.

"I am a little hungry," she confessed quietly.

Tony grinned. "See? She's hungry. Food first, work later, Pepper. Call a car."

Pepper arched a brow at him. "Call a car... what?"

He widened his eyes playfully and tugged a strand of her strawberry blonde hair. "Call a car _please_."

She rewarded him with a smile. "Very well."

"Man, she's got your number, doesn't she?" Clint asked wryly.

"Like you're one to talk, bird man," Tony retorted with a pointed look at Natasha.

They exchanged a few well meaning barbs, but Bella was distracted by the Iron Man suit against the wall. Slowly, she moved towards it and studied it. She'd seen it often enough on the television, but it really didn't do it much justice.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Tony asked, coming up behind her.

"That's one of many adjectives I'd use, yes," she admitted.

"You know," he said, his tone low and uncharacteristically serious. "Not all armor is made of metal. Sometimes the best thing to shield ourselves comes from within."

Bella half-smiled. "You sound like a psychologist."

"Well, I am a doctor, if that helps. I've got a couple doctorates lying around here somewhere."

"Is that what you do?" she asked abruptly before she could lose the nerve. "Shield yourself with your mind and wit, not so much with the suit."

Quirking his head to the side, Tony gave her a pointed look. "It's what we all do, Bella. Anyone who has seen the sort of things we have."

Bella nodded, accepting his silent show of support and not terribly surprised when he changed the subject. "Let's go before the Iceman Cometh."

"You have ADD, don't you?" she joked.

"Nope, I'm just ahead of the curve."

They turned to join the others. "And what do you mean Iceman Cometh... who are you talking about?"

"The Captain, of course," he said haughtily. "Big ole stick in the mud, that one. I say we ditch him."

A throat cleared over by the door and a voice said dryly, "Too late, Stark."

Bella turned and saw a tall man wearing average clothes, a button down shirt tucked neatly into kakis. His light hair was neatly combed and his blue eyes glinted with the air of someone in command. He was glaring lightly at Tony, but his gaze softened when it turned to her and he smiled politely.

"What's this I hear about a vampire?" the newcomer asked.

"They suck," Tony quipped. "More on that later, Rogers. We're getting breakfast."

Tony looped Bella's arm through his and marched towards the elevator.

"I really don't think now's the time," the new guy started, but Tony cut him off.

Pulling Bella into the elevator with him, he gave the whole room a cheeky smile before arching a brow at Rogers. "That's why no one asked you, Capsicle. And no one said any of you losers were invited."

With that, he hit the door close button and the elevator propelled them down.

"We're going to be in so much trouble."

"Yes," Tony grinned. "That's half the fun."

Despite her misgivings, Bella decided to throw caution to the wind and let Tony lead her to some extravagant car in his underground garage. Clint was already working to heal her shattered heart and Natasha was going to mold her body into the epitome of strength.

But Tony, she could tell, was going to teach her how to live wildly and without abandon.

She couldn't wait.

* * *

**(A/N):** So... Loki is a tough nut to crack, as I'm sure you can imagine. I knew he would be, so in preparation for tackling his POV, I watched several interviews of Tom Hiddleston talking about his take on Loki. It brought a lot of insight and even helped smooth out a plot point further along in the story... also, I got to watch Tom Hiddleston so yay! I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!


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